


Causing a Commotion

by urlocalswan



Series: 1987 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Hinata Shouyou & Tsukishima Kei Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Punk Rock, Punk Yamaguchi Tadashi, Recreational Drug Use, Tsukishima Kei Being an Asshole, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Underage Drinking, clunky song references, i'm obsessed with sassy guchi, kuroo is a whore, set in 1987, tsukki is a pining idiot, yachi hitoka & tsukishima kei friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urlocalswan/pseuds/urlocalswan
Summary: "As the freshman class representative, his goal was simple: eradicate all miscreants, ne’er-do-wells, and delinquents.In short, Tsukishima was singularly focused on purging punks."It had been 2 years since Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's friendship had fallen into ruin. Yamaguchi had fallen in with the punks, and it was only after he was gone that Tsukishima realized his true feelings for his best friend.You met your match when you met meI know that you will disagree it's crazyBut opposites attract you'll seeAnd I won't let you get away so easy
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Terushima Yuuji/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: 1987 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703413
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so this is a part of my punk AU along with my bokuaka fic that i already started, i hope it's as enjoyed as my other!

Chapter 1

Tsukishima

“That’s him, ma’am, that’s the dress code violator,” Tsukishima declared, a stern, accusatory finger directed at the fellow freshman. Yutaro Kindaichi let out an aggravated sigh as one of the deans of students glared at him.

“No drug paraphernalia, and yes, t-shirts _do_ count. My office, Mr. Kindaichi. You know the way,” she told him, then turned to Tsukishima and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for taking your job as class representative so seriously, Kei. Not many others would have the bravery to report their own classmates,” Mrs. Trip said, positively beaming.

Tsukishima nodded, accepting her praise with a smug, “It’s no trouble. All I want is a safe, well-behaved student body, ma’am.”

Kindaichi grumbled something under his breath, crossing his arms over his t-shirt that read _You Go To High School, I Go To School High_ and featured a monkey with bloodshot eyes.

“Huh?” Tsukishima asked, cupping a hand dramatically around his ear and leaning forward. “What was that?”

Kindaichi lunged forward, grabbing the front of his cardigan.

“I _said_ snitches get stitches, Four Eyes!” he roared, but Tsukishima just chuckled and pushed up his glasses as Mrs. Trip rushed off to find a male dean.

“You could use a mint, Kindaichi,” Tsukishima informed him as the juvenile delinquent huffed angrily in his face, nearly fogging his glasses.

“I’m serious, you’re gonna pay for this. I know people,” Kindaichi threatened, giving him a shove.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes and smoothed the front of his peony-pink cardigan.

“What a coincidence; so do I.”

It was then that Mrs. Trip rounded the corner, a furious Mr. McDon in tow. He grabbed Kindaichi by the back of the shirt and dragged him away, and Tsukishima offered him a coy flittering of his fingers in a wave goodbye.

 _“Another one bites the dust,”_ he mused as he made his way back to the lunchroom.

As the freshman class representative, his goal was simple: eradicate all miscreants, ne’er-do-wells, and delinquents.

In short, Tsukishima was singularly focused on purging punks.

Though straightforward, it had proven to be a much more strenuous task than he had initially anticipated. Still, he was resolute in his cause; he’d do whatever it took.

“Tsukishima, over here!” Yachi called out to him, flagging him down from their usual lunch table. The table was crammed full of similarly pastel-clad, well-off students, but Tsukishima viewed them more as associates as opposed to actual friends. Yachi was the only tolerable one.

He slid into his usual seat beside her, where his lunchbox was already waiting; he had left it in her care before going to report Kindaichi.

Tsukishima pensively gnawed on a ranch-dipped celery stick, wordlessly passing Yachi a few baby carrots as he scanned the lunchroom.

“He’s not here, he got up and went somewhere with Hinata while you were away,” Yachi informed him, finishing up a math assignment before tucking her notebook back into her bag.

“I wasn’t looking for him,” he huffed, turning towards her to keep his eyes from watching the doors in case he came back.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Honestly, Kei, it’s starting to get to me. Why don’t you just talk to him? Y’know, like a _normal_ person, instead of all this plotting and planning. You obviously want to,” Yachi pressed, leaning sadly against his arm.

He pinched his nose and let out an annoyed sigh.

“We’ve been through this a thousand times. I can’t just walk up to him and strike up conversation like nothing’s changed. It’s been two years since we were on speaking terms, for God’s sake,” Tsukishima growled.

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. Just drop it, okay?”

“U-um, Tsuk—”

“No.”

“H-He’s right—”

“I said _drop it_.”

A new voice, and instead of the topic, Tsukishima’s stomach dropped.

“Glad to see you’re still a dick even to the people looking out for you,” Tadashi Yamaguchi commented, standing beside their table and looking uncharacteristically pissed off.

Tsukishima swiveled around, eyes wide as he took in the boy before him.

It was Yamaguchi, alright, but also…. Not.

 _His_ Yamaguchi was a mess of freckles and blushes, awkwardly tall with a childlike innocence surrounding him that had urged Tsukishima to look out for him. He was bright smiles and encouragements, years spent in each other’s company passed with giggles and inside jokes. They’d been so close that they could communicate without words; they just knew what the other was thinking, no questions asked. He was the person Tsukishima dared to rely on, dared to open up to.

Now, though, an uncrossable chasm gaped between them.

 _This_ Yamaguchi was a long-haired, black-nail-polish-wearing, blackened-waterline-having, leather-jacket-with-shoulder-spikes-clad _punk_. He even wore those absurd, clunky boots, and some obscure band name decorated his t-shirt. Freckles still dusted his face, but that happy-go-lucky glimmer he’d always held in his eyes had turned into something hard and dark and foreign.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer. Besides, then you can use it as evidence against me, _Mr. Tsukishima_ ,” Yamaguchi griped at him, frowning down at him.

Tsukishima was truly, utterly lost for words.

“Did you need something?”

He cringed inwardly; he’d meant it calmly, but instead his tone had come out in that bored drawl that was his default.

“I’m just here for Yachi,” Yamaguchi replied, crossing his arms and jutting out his jaw stubbornly.

The expression used to be cute and kind of pouty, but now it was hedging on legitimately menacing.

“What do you need Yachi for?” he demanded, turning to his second-in-command. Yachi let out a nervous laugh and scratched her head.

“W-Well, um—”

“What is this, a custody battle? It’s not your business,” Yamaguchi cut her off.

Tsukishima rose to his feet, also crossing his arms and replying, “It most certainly _is_ my business as class representative and as her friend. There’s no way I’d let her go off with someone dangerous.”

Yachi stood as well and tugged on his arm, then went to Yamaguchi’s side and did the same.

“Simmer down, you two,” she told them.

At that Yamaguchi’s expression softened, and he let out a terse sigh.

“My bad. It’s ancient history, right?” he said, even going so far as to extend a hand in truce.

Frowning, Tsukishima wordlessly shook his hand, releasing it as the bell rang and marked the end of lunch.

“See you around,” Yamaguchi called over his shoulder, walking off with Yachi attached to his arm.

Tsukishima didn’t reply, instead choosing to clear off the lunch table. Once he was sure Yamaguchi was out of sight, he rushed off to the men’s room, dashing into the largest stall and fumbling to lock the door before slumping against the wall, his weight sliding him to the floor.

His eyes were glued to his hand, cheeks so red they gave off noticeable heat.

_“Shit. Shit, shit. Fuck.”_

The situation had rendered his extensive vocabulary utterly useless.

 _“Yup,”_ he thought, gently rubbing his fingers together, savoring the sensation of the hand that had gripped his.

_“I’m definitely still in love with Yamaguchi.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWWW sorry this update took a million years! i've been mostly focused on my bokuaka fic, but i didn't want to totally abandon this one either!

Chapter 2

Yamaguchi

“Wow Freckles, you’re pretty good at this,” Terushima told him, marveling at his algebra homework. It had taken longer than usual for him to get it, but the look on his face when the equations finally clicked kept Yamaguchi going.

Aside from Yachi and Hinata, Terushima was the only person Yamaguchi let come over to his house; even then, he usually kicked the pierced-up boy out before his mother got home from work. These days, having tons of friends just didn’t hold the same appeal that it had when he was younger. When he was little, all he had wanted was a big friend group full of people he loved and whom loved him.

Then, all he had wanted was Tsukishima.

And now, he just wanted to feel the ache in his chest let up for even one second.

Before he could get too lost in thought, Yamaguchi stood from where he’d knelt on the floor next to where Terushima had sprawled out to do his homework.

“Can I get you anything? A snack? Something to drink?” he offered, hand on the doorknob of his room. Terushima rolled to his feet and swaggered over to Yamaguchi, reaching up and cupping the speckled boy’s face in his hands.

Yamaguchi’s freckle-splattered cheeks immediately heated, and he stuttered out, “T-Teru, wh-what are you—”, but he was cut off.

“You seem sad or something. Did you have a shitty day?” Terushima asked earnestly, searching his face. Yamaguchi couldn’t help but smile at the image, with his spiked hair all over the place and the eyeliner smudged beneath his normally intense eyes.

Still, the question remained, and those big brown eyes wouldn’t be denied the truth. Yamaguchi bit his lip a moment as he thought of something to pacify Terushima, but when nothing came to mind, he let out a little sigh and grabbed the hands framing his face, the metal of his multiple rings cool against Yamaguchi’s warm cheeks.

Gently removing Terushima’s hands from his face and holding them, Yamaguchi replied, “Yeah, but I’m okay. Really!”

Instead of prying further, Terushima pulled his hands from Yamaguchi’s and, while he was off guard, scooped him up into his arms. Instinctively, Yamaguchi latched his legs around the rebellious boy’s waist and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Out of habit, Terushima grabbed Yamaguchi behind the thighs to support his weight, and Yamaguchi felt his back his bedroom door as they stumbled backwards a step.

“Don’t be sad, Yama, ‘cause I don’t like seeing you down,” the boy informed him, then pressed a big kiss to Yamaguchi’s shock-parted lips.

Unfreezing after a moment, he sighed inwardly, then slowly began to return the kiss. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, kissing Terushima was oddly comforting. He wasn’t sure when or how they’d started doing it, but it was something of a routine.

Terushima would come by after school, and most days, it was just so Yamaguchi could tutor him, or to hang out. Every now and then, though, one of them would have a particularly shitty day, and they’d come to some odd unspoken agreement that having a platonic-ish make out session was the best cure for the blues.

Kissing Terushima, even when it got heated, always had an air of impermanence about it. Even as Terushima toted him over to the twin mattress against the wall and set him down, even as he crawled atop the him, even as Teru kissed that spot by Yamaguchi’s ear just how he liked it, everything felt calm in his head. There was no attachment behind the fervor; their only motivation was it felt good, and one of them needed cheering up.

For Yamaguchi, the best medicine was always an empty mind. All day every day, his brain was a flurry of thoughts, an endless stream of concerns and emotions and things to worry about. But when he was kissing Terushima, it all was pushed to the back burner. Nothing mattered except the lips pressed to his and making sure he kissed back in a way that conveyed he was grateful for his friend’s concern. And, of course, that Goddamned tongue piercing sweetened the pot.

For some reason, though, a single thought managed to pierce the make-out daze:

_“I wonder who Tsukki’s made out with.”_

Startled by the thought, Yamaguchi yanked away from Terushima, who sat back on his calves panting. Yamaguchi sat up on his elbows and Terushima watched, concern evident on his flushed face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows stitched together.

Yamaguchi just shook his head, frowning.

“ _C’monnnn_ , you know I’ll just find out from someone in the gang later,” Terushima prompted, prodding Yamaguchi’s ribs with a sock-sheathed foot.

Ugh. He hated it when his friends schemed behind his back. And, given how Yachi witnessed his confrontation with Tsukishima, it wouldn’t be hard for the two of them to connect the dots.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Yamaguchi tugged on a loose strand of his hair, a nervous habit he was annoyed to see resurfacing. He shifted so that his back was against the wall and sat crisscross applesauce.

Avoiding Terushima’s face, he confessed, “I talked to Tsukki today when I went to get Yachi after lunch.”

The older boy gasped and launched into a sitting position, demanding, “ _Tsukishima_?! The hell did that beanpole bastard do to you? I’m gonna kick his ass for ruining your day.”

Yamaguchi turned his chortle into a small cough at Terushima’s usual brazen attitude, but appreciated his support, nonetheless.

“He’s not worth the suspension. He was just a dick as usual. It’s just….,” he replied, trailing off. Was this really something he wanted to admit out loud?

Terushima scooted closer, eyebrows upturned, expression unusually gentle and coaxing him to continue.

Yamaguchi knocked his head back against the wall, intentionally a little too hard.

“I dunno, we bickered the whole time, but at the end, something about it just reminded me of old times. It’s stupid, I know. It’s ridiculous. I’m dumb. _He’s_ dumb,” he said in a rush, then glanced at Terushima to watch his reaction.

The punk boy was comically deep in thought, face scrunched up and his fingers stroking his chin as he considered the revelation.

“You mean ‘old times’ in general, or back-when-you-were-in-love-with-him ‘old times’?” Teru inquired, mirroring Yamaguchi’s sitting position and completing his question with bunny ear air quotes.

The directness of the inquiry drew a groan from Yamaguchi, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

“I dunno. I really don’t. I’m mostly just mad I had to be around him in the first place, and that he still has this power over me. And did you hear? He got Kindaichi suspended,” he replied, jaw jutting out angrily.

Really, why did he have to be _such_ an asshole? What did he gain? It was funny when they were younger, but now it was just annoying and childish.

Terushima wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze as he held him close.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s only natural for the two of you to be connected. I mean, he was your _everything_ , y’know? It takes a long, long time for something like that to go away. And don’t even get me started on Kindaichi! He’s such a good kid. I bet Tsukishima would actually like him if he bothered to get to know him, but _noooo_ , he’s gotta keep up his little class president act and be a total douche twenty-four-fuckin-seven,” he ranted, growing animated and gesturing wildly.

Yamaguchi nodded his agreement, but it was still hard to hammer into his brain how different things were.

How different _he_ was.

Because it wasn’t Tsukishima that had changed; if anything, he was as cold and snarky as ever. And maybe that was why Yamaguchi’s old feelings for him couldn’t seem to stay buried, because everything he’d loved about Tsukki was still right there in front of him. But Yamaguchi himself wasn’t the same Yamaguchi that had been in love with Tsukishima, and that’s what made the difference.

He knew it deep down, that everything was his fault, that it was him changing that had ruined their friendship. But given the circumstance, it was adapt or die; he hadn’t had much of a choice but to toughen up. Tsukishima had always been his protector, but it was the one thing no one could save Yamaguchi from.

At the very least, though, Tsukki could’ve supported him.

But he didn’t.

He turned his back.

In doing so, he went back to being Tsukishima and not Tsukki, and went back to being a stranger and not Yamaguchi’s best friend whom he was in love with.

“Aw c’mon, perk up! You’ve always been too good for him anyway,” Terushima insisted, leaning over to plant a fat kiss on Yamaguchi’s cheek playfully.

Hesitantly, Yamaguchi leaned his head against the older boy’s shoulder, closing his eyes and loosing a sigh.

“You got any weed on you?” he mumbled, enjoying the sensation as Terushima wove his fingers through his hair, stroking it soothingly.

“I always got weed on me. Won’t your mom be home soon though?” he replied teasingly, and if his eyes hadn’t been closed, Yamaguchi would’ve been inclined to roll them.

“Yeah, but whatever. I’ve gotten good at acting,” he scoffed, though he trailed off, throat oddly tightening around the words.

Acting.

Good at acting.

That was certainly one way of putting it.

“Alright, alright, get a lighter,” Terushima told him, producing two joints from God knows where in his bulky denim vest.

Yamaguchi nodded, crawling over to his bedside table and opening the small drawer, and green hand lighter clattering around inside before he grabbed it.

Getting totally baked wasn’t really his thing, and Terushima knew that; coupled with the convenience of joints, Yamaguchi was always content with being just a little altered.

Still, as he leaned against Terushima’s shoulder, passing the J's back and forth, Yamaguchi had two big questions:

_“How did things end up this way?”_

And,

_“Did he ever love me back?”_


End file.
